


Now I See Clearly (It’s You I’m Looking For)

by nightcalling



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightcalling/pseuds/nightcalling
Summary: Somehow, Mike knew the past twenty-seven years had always been building up to that moment. Maybe what he was missing was a little push to become unstuck.





	Now I See Clearly (It’s You I’m Looking For)

**Author's Note:**

> I finally saw It Chapter 2 a few days ago and my brain has been consumed by hanbrough ever since. I really wanted to contribute to this pair’s small fandom (which really deserves bigger!), so here’s a little something.
> 
> Title is from Alexi Murdoch’s “All My Days,” which is as Mike Hanlon as it gets.

He really should’ve known better.

Mike thought it would eventually become easier to live with the memories that his friends no longer shared, that it would be fine if he just kept at shelving books and dusting off the cobwebs underneath the library’s lampshades. But, for all he feared of the past, of dwelling on it even though it had done no favors to him, he still remained tethered to it like a lifeline. What was he, if not defined by his past?

Maybe that’s why he found himself stuck in 1989 while everyone else moved on to 1990, and 2000, and beyond. Even though he hated the past for all that it had taken from him, deep down, he knew it was the future that truly frightened him the most.

Or, maybe he’s just a sentimental kind of guy. If they weren’t going to remember each other, then Mike would remember for them. That’s what he told himself whenever he caught Richie on TV, or Beverly in a magazine spread, or Ben in the news, committing their faces to heart as they grew and aged.

Bill aged well. Mike could see the bags under his eyes and the tired shadows in his shoulders in every dustjacket of his novels, but Bill never failed to look the same as he always did—beautiful. Mike only wished he could’ve been by Bill’s side to iron the wrinkles out of Bill’s face.

He didn’t want to forget. Not the first day he met Bill, or Bill’s laughter, or what Bill’s face looked like before the weight of the world grew too heavy of a burden for him to carry.

So, Mike stayed. It was good for a while. Being a librarian in Derry allowed for a surprisingly simple life when there wasn’t a killer clown on the loose. Go figure.

Of course, the universe never offers kindness without expecting repayment, and Stan and Eddie paid dearly. It was then that Mike thought it would’ve been better if he had forgotten, after all.

Why weren’t they forgetting? Bill asked as much, and Mike didn’t have a proper answer. He could only tell him what he believed, what he hoped was true. And that’s how he found himself staring down at the ground, his rational side warring with his sentimental side as he rushed out those four little words into the receiver.

_I love you, man._

Somehow, Mike knew the past twenty-seven years had always been building up to that moment. Maybe what he was missing was a little push to become unstuck.

~

It’s Bill who rings him up a few days later.

“Where are you at now?”

“Just passing through Philly,” Mike says, glancing at his GPS. _994 miles to Orlando, Florida,_ it tells him helpfully.

“I hope you’re not driving while on the phone.” Bill’s smile comes through loud and clear, and it makes Mike dizzy, almost as dizzy as Bill’s voice makes him.

“Of course not,” Mike promises, refocusing on the road ahead. “Bluetooth.”

“R-Right.”

Mike can hear Bill’s breathing, faint but steady in his ear, like a heartbeat. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I-I was just w-w-wonder—” Bill clears his throat. “I’m in D.C. for a writer’s conference.”

Mike knows. Which wouldn’t be that big of a deal if Bill was the one who told him first, but truth is, Mike found out after digging around a bit for Bill’s schedule of public appearances on his website before leaving Derry. It was pretty hard to find, whoever’s in charge of the site’s design should be fired, but he supposes that’s not really the point right now.

“You don’t say,” is what Mike says instead.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to stop by and say hi.”

Bill doesn’t say anything else after that. Mike looks at the next sign that appears on the highway. _140 miles to Washington, D.C._

“I’ll see you in three hours,” Mike says, switching lanes. “Where should I find you?”

~

Bill wraps him in a tight hug the moment Mike steps into the coffee shop. Mike allows himself to bury his face in Bill’s neck, breathing him in. He’s reminded of that day in Jade of the Orient, when swaying to and fro with Bill in his arms was all that seemed to matter.

“I’m glad I know who you are this time,” Bill says when he leans back, but not letting go. He’s in a suit, which isn’t particularly out of the ordinary, but it’s the first time Mike sees him like this in person.

“Fancy clothes you’ve got on,” Mike says, flipping Bill’s tie up.

Bill laughs, head ducking. “Not fancy enough for tonight’s function, believe me. I’ve always hated dressing up but my agent said she’d kill me if I didn’t look my best.”

Mike resists responding with ‘_You always look your best_’. Instead, he gestures toward the nearby table. “What were you drinking?”

Bill swivels. “Oh. Fuck, wh-wh-where are my manners, you should g-get something to drink. D-Do you want something to eat? Are you hungry? Here, tell me what you want and I-I’ll—”

“Hey, calm down, it’s just me.” Mike puts both hands gently on Bill’s arms, stilling them. “We’re old friends catching up, right?”

Bill looks up with a mix of hesitancy and something else that Mike can’t quite make out, but at least he isn’t fidgeting anymore.

“Friends,” Bill says, nodding slowly.

Mike smiles. “I know we’ve talked over the phone, but it’s nice to see you. We have nearly three decades to make up for.” He feels Bill’s shoulders relax, and he lets his arms drop back down to his sides.

“Yeah. Um…” Bill runs a hand through his hair, and a few strands stay sticking up afterward. He looks at the table again. “Actually, do you mind if we go somewhere else?”

Mike raises his eyebrows. “I just got here.”

“W-We don’t have to, but there’s a nice park nearby, there’s a flower garden. An-And, uh, trees?”

Mike wonders if Bill is feeling nervous about the function. He always needed to move around and let it all out whenever it became too overwhelming.

“Okay,” Mike agrees.

~

It is a pretty nice park. There’s a lot of people around, but the space is so open that it doesn’t feel claustrophobic or crowded. If anything, it feels more intimate than if they were completely alone.

“Is it weird if this reminds me of Derry?” Mike tells Bill.

“You did like the grass fields,” Bill says. “I found this place yesterday and it re-re-reminded me of you.”

Mike studies Bill’s profile, sees blue eyes glittering in the sun and adds another item to the list of Bill traits that make him dizzy.

“How are you doing?” Mike asks.

“Good. Book’s coming along.”

“And?”

“My agent says it might be my best yet,” Bill chuckles. “Apparently people are already calling dibs on movie rights.”

Mike slows to a halt. “And?” he asks again, softly.

Bill walks three paces ahead until he’s underneath a cherry tree, then turns around. “And what?”

He always does this. Always keeps it all inside.

“How are you doing?” Mike repeats. He follows Bill under the cherry tree, and waits.

Bill looks up, piercing blue eyes made bluer by the shadows (dizzy, Mike feels dizzy), then looks away. “I miss—I miss—I miss them,” he finally says quietly.

It’s not what Mike expected him to say, but he’s not surprised, either. “I do too,” he confesses, curling a hand gently behind Bill’s neck. It’s probably too tender a motion for two friends, but Mike can’t find it in himself to care about what’s appropriate right now.

Bill meets his gaze again, leaning briefly into the touch before tilting his head the other way. “Will you c-c-come with me tonight?”

“To the function?” Mike moves his thumb up until it hits the base of Bill’s ear.

Bill nods. “I don’t want to g-g-go alone.”

Mike considers this. “Your agent won’t mind?”

“She’s not here, actually.” Bill offers a small smile. “It’s just me.”

Mike wonders what the other famous people at the function might think if he showed up with world-renowned author Bill Denbrough, but he can’t find it in himself to care about that right now either.

“If that’s what you want,” Mike says.

Bill nods again. “Please.”

~

They’re about to head inside the venue when Mike sees tuxes left and right and realizes belatedly that he’s way underdressed for the occasion. He looks down at his own button-up and slacks, glad that he at least chose to wear them in lieu of a t-shirt and jeans.

“What you’re wearing is fine,” Bill says.

Mike feels himself flush. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

Bill narrows his eyes, then pinches Mike’s arm. “You could never do that.”

When they reach the receptionist’s desk, Mike can sense eyes on himself as Bill hands a woman his invitation.

“Bill Denbrough, plus one,” Bill announces.

The woman looks through her clipboard. “Welcome, Mr. Denbrough. I’m sorry, but I don’t have a guest listed for you in my records.”

Bill tilts his chin at the invitation. “That says I’m allowed one, doesn’t it?”

The woman nods. “Yes, of course, but policy dictates I can only allow pre-registered guests to attend…”

Mike’s about to tell Bill to not bother when Bill leans in, arms draped loosely across the counter, and says, “This venue hosts one thousand. I know for a fact that you’re only going to reach a third of that at most. So, between you and me, we can register my friend now and let him in, don’t you think?”

Bill gives the woman his sincerest and most winning smile, and Mike sees the moment it works, because the woman lets out a breathy laugh and pulls up something on her computer.

“Of course,” the woman says kindly. “Your friend is…?”

“Mike Hanlon,” Bill says, still smiling.

After the woman finishes typing, she prints something out, then pushes two nametags across the counter. “Please enjoy your evening, Mr. Denbrough, Mr. Hanlon.”

Mike takes his nametag and stares at it in disbelief as Bill snaps his own onto his front lapel.

“Thank you…Deborah,” Bill says, glancing at the name plaque next to the computer. “Have a lovely evening yourself.”

“Who are you?” Mike whispers as they enter two extremely large double doors.

“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow,” Bill says, grinning.

~

Mike has never been surrounded by this many rich people in his entire _life_. He recognizes name after name, face after face, from his years of being buried in books. There’s also so much free champagne and food, it’s ridiculous.

“I can see why you love your job,” Mike teases.

Bill laughs, then sobers. “It-it wasn’t always so good, but now…yeah, I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

“It’s what you deserve,” Mike says before he can stop himself.

Bill pauses in the middle of sipping his champagne.

“I mean,” Mike says, rubbing his neck. “You…you were hit the hardest the first time around, I think.” Shit, _why_ would he say that? Today’s supposed to be fun, they’re supposed to be having a good time, and there he goes again, bringing up memories that are better off left alone.

Bill swirls the liquid around in his glass. “I still wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Mike breathes in, then out. “Me neither.”

“I met you,” Bill continues. “No-Nothing could ever replace that.”

Before Mike can respond, Bill is distracted by a man and a woman approaching them.

“Bill! It’s so good to see you!” the man says, giving him a handshake.

“John, Felicity, it’s been a long time,” Bill says, hugging them both in turn.

“We’re looking forward to your next book,” Felicity says. “I hear you’ve finally cured yourself of your ending problem.”

“I think I have,” Bill agrees. “The old me would’ve taken that as an insult, but…yes, I do think I have.” He glances over at Mike, then, and Mike’s not sure if he’s expected to say something or stay silent.

John follows Bill’s gaze over to Mike, studying him appraisingly. “And this is?”

“I’m Mike Hanlon, it’s a pleasure,” Mike says, reaching a hand out. “I’m Bill’s friend,” he adds, the same time that Bill chimes in with, “He’s my date.”

“Oh.” Felicity looks delighted, which makes no sense. “I’m happy for you two.”

“It’s not what you think,” Mike responds on autopilot, interrupting Bill’s “thank you.”

“Oh,” Felicity repeats, looking confused. “My apologies, I simply assumed.”

“It-It’s alright,” Bill says stiffly.

“Well, Bill, Felicity and I have more people to check off our greeting list tonight,” John pipes up, saving them all. “Hon, why don’t we go find the Andersons? Mike, it was nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Mike says, watching John direct Felicity in the direction of the dessert table. He drops his hand when he realizes he’d been waving it awkwardly in the air.

“S-Sorry about Felicity,” Bill says. The strain in his voice makes Mike turn to face him.

“It’s alright,” Mike says, an echo of what Bill said earlier, but it sounds wrong the moment it rolls off his tongue.

“They’re old patrons of my earlier work. I wouldn’t be here without—without them,” Bill explains. “They—They know Audra, from when we were…”

Mike eyes the grip Bill has on his champagne glass. “Are you okay?”

“You keep asking me that,” Bill says, expression closing off. “Not—Not always with the same words, but always in the—the same way.”

Mike is taken aback by Bill’s sharp tone. He imagines it’s difficult to go through a divorce, and whatever his own feelings are on the matter, all he wants is… “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know,” Bill says, eyes sad. “But what about you?”

The room reverberates with the feedback from the microphone on the stage, and Bill turns to face the speaker, cutting off their conversation.

~

The function officially ends at nine, but Bill decides he’s had enough around eight-thirty.

The drive to the Marriott is quiet save for the occasional ticks from the blinker or the GPS announcing directions. Bill keeps his eyes fixed outside the window on his side of the car the entire time, and Mike wonders if it’s because the stars are particularly breathtaking tonight.

After Mike pulls into the hotel’s parking lot, they sit in the car for a good minute, engine still rumbling. He thinks he should say something, or do something, or…

“Walk me to my room?” Bill asks.

Mike turns off the engine.

~

They take the elevator up to the tenth floor. Bill’s cheeks are flushed pink, probably from the outside chill. Mike puts his own hands into his pockets, attempting to warm his fingers up.

“This is me,” Bill says, stopping when they get to room 1029.

Mike wants to hug him before he goes inside, but his hands are still cold. He settles for a nod and a smile. “It was nice seeing you.”

Bill takes out his key card, swipes once and opens the door. Mike sees a single jacket, a single suitcase, and a single bed through the void between the top of Bill’s head and the top of the doorframe.

“Are you g-g-going to kiss me?” Bill asks suddenly.

Mike looks down. “What?”

“I said I loved you too,” Bill says. “What did you think that meant?”

The universe never offers kindness without expecting repayment. Mike knows this. But, looking at Bill standing in front of him now, blue eyes bright with hope and lips red with the chill that’s settled across the night, Mike thinks that the universe owes him, owes them both this, at the very least.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Mike tells Bill seriously, pulling him close. His hands aren’t so cold, after all.

Bill beams, arms reaching up to bring Mike’s forehead down on his own. “I won’t let that happen.”

Mike’s spent so much of his life in the past. Maybe he’s finally found the thing that’ll help him become unstuck.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, hands cupping Bill’s face. As he closes the distance between them, warming Bill’s cold lips with his own, he can’t believe he managed to convince himself for twenty-seven years to stay in Derry forever.

Yeah. He really should’ve known better.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to think of more tags to add but all my brain could come up with was 'idiots in love' lsdkjflskdf


End file.
